CHAPTER XV
When Nod opened his eyes beneath the vast blue arch of the cavern, not asign of the Men of the Mountains was to be seen. He sat for awhilewatching his brothers humped up in sleep on the floor, and wonderingrather dismally when they should have done with their troubles and cometo the palace of their Uncle Assasimmon. He was blained and footsore;his small bones stuck out beneath his furry skin, his hands were crackedand scorched. And the keen high air of Arakkaboa made him gasp at everybreath.
When Thumb awoke they sat quietly mumbling and talking together a while.Beyond the mouth of the cavern stood the beehive-houses of theMountain-mulgars, each in its splash of lengthening shadow. Day drew onto evening. An eagle squalled in space. Else all was still; no livingthing stirred. For these Men of the Mountains have no need to keepwatch. They sleep secure in their white huts. None can come in, andnone go out but first they must let down their ladders. Thumb scrambledup, and he and Nod hobbled off softly together to where the cataracthung like a shrine of hoarfrost in pillars of green ice from the frozensnows above. The evening was filled with light of the colour of aflower. Even the snow that capped the mountains was faintest violet androse, and far in the distance, between the peaks of Zut and misty Solmi,stretched a band of darkest purple, above which the risen moon wasriding in pale gold. And Nod knew that there, surely, must be Battle'sSea. He pointed Thumb to it, and the two Mulgars stood, legs bandy,teeth shining, eyes fixed. Nod gazed on it bewitched, till it seemed healmost saw the foam of its league-long billows rolling, and could catchin his thin round ear the roar and surge Battle had so often told himof. "Ohe! if my Oomgar were but with me now!" he thought. "How would hiseyes stare to see his friend the sea!"
But the Men of the Mountains were now bestirring themselves. They camecreeping, lean and hairy, out of their mushroom houses. Some fetchedwater, some looped down over the brink by which the travellers had comeup. Some clambered up into little dark horseshoe courts cut in the rocklike martins' holes in sand, and came down carrying sacks or suchlikeout of their nut pantries and cheese-rooms. Some, too, of the elders satcombing their long beards with a kind of teasel that grows in thevalleys, while their faint voices sounded in their gossiping likehundreds of grasshoppers in a meadow. Nod watched them curiously. Eventhe faces of quite the puny Mountain-mulgars were sad, with round andfeeble eyes. And he couldn't help nudging Thumb to look at these tinycreatures gravely combing their hairy chops--for all had whiskers, fromthe brindled and grey, whose hair fell below their knees, to the mouseand cane coloured babies lying in basins or cradles of Ollaconda-bark,kicking their toes towards the brightening stars.
The moonlight dwelt in silver on every crag. And, like things sobeautiful that they seem of another world, towered the mountains aroundthem, clear as emeralds, and crowned with never-melting snow.
Thimble, when he awoke, was fevered and aching. The heights had made hishead dizzy, and the mountain cheese was sickly and faint. He lay at fulllength, with wandering eyes, refusing to speak. So, when the Mulla-moonasent for the three travellers, only Thumb and Nod went together. He wasold, thin-haired and thick-skinned, and rather fat with eating ofcheese; he wore a great loose hat of leopard-skin on his head. And helooked at them with his eyes wizened up as if they were creatures of noaccount. And he asked one of the Mountain-mulgars who stood near, Whowere these strangers, and by whose leave they had come trespassing onthe hill-walks of the Mountain-mulgars. "Munza is your country," hesaid. "The leaves are never still with you, thieves and gluttons,squealing and fighting and swinging by your tails!"
Thumb opened his mouth at this. "We are three, and you are many, Old Manof the Mountains," he barked, "but keep a civil tongue with us, for allthat. We are neither thieves nor gluttons. We fight, oh yes, when itpleases us. But having no tails, we do not swing by them. We areMulla-mulgars, my brothers and I, and we go to the kingdom of ourfather's brother, Assasimmon, Prince of the Valleys of Tishnar. He is aPrince, O Mulla-moona, who has more slaves in his palace and moreUkka-trees in the least of his seventy-seven gardens than your royalwhiskers have hairs! On, then, we go! But be not afraid,Mulla-moona-mulgar. We will leave a few small stones of Arakkaboa behindus. But whether you will or whether you won't, on we go until the Harpsounds. Then our Meermuts will Tishnar welcome, and bid wander overthese her mountains, never hungry, never thirsty, never footsore, withsweet-smelling lanterns to light us, and striped Zevveras to carry us,and gongs to make music. But if we live, Chief Mulgar of Kush, we willremember your words, I and my brother Ummanodda Nizza-neela, for heshall breathe them into a little book in the Zbaffle Oomgar's tongue forPrince Assasimmon to mock at in his Ummuz-fields."
Nod listened in wonder to this palaver. Had he, then, been talking inhis sleep, that Thumb knew all about the Oomgar's little fat magic-book?The old Mountain-mulgar sat solemnly blinking, fingering the tassel ofhis long tail. He was a doleful and dirty fellow, and very sly.
"Why," he said at last, "I did but speak Munza fashion. Scratch if youitch, traveller. Even an Utt can grow angry. As for writing my words inthe Oomgar's tongue, that is magic, and I understand it not. Rest in thecool of the shadow of Kush a little, and to-morrow my servants shalllead you as far across Arakkaboa as they know the way. But this I willtell you: Beyond Zut my paths go not." He raised his pale eyes softly."But then, Meermuts need no paths, Mulla-mulgars."
Thumb laughed. "All in good time, Prince," he said, showing his teeth."I begin to get an itching for this Zut. We will rest only one day. TheMulla-mulgar Thimbulla has a poor stomach for your green cheese. We willjourney on to-morrow."
The Mulla-moona then called an old Mulgar who stood by, whose name wasGhibba, and bade him take a rope (that is, about twenty) of theMountain-mulgars with him to show the travellers the secret "walks" andpasses across their country to the border round Zut. "After that," hesaid, turning sourly to Thumb, "though your Meermuts were three hundredand not three, and your Uncle, King Assasimmon, had more palaces thanthere are nuts on an Ukka-tree, I could help you no more. Sulani, OMulla-mulgars, and may Tishnar, before she scatters your bones, sweetenyour tempers!"
And at that the old Mountain-man curled his tail over his shoulder andshut his eyes.
When Thumb and Nod came into the great cavern again to Thimble, theyfound him helpless with pain and fever. He could not even lift his headfrom his green pillow. His eyes glowed in their bony hollows. And whenThumb stooped over him he screamed, "Gunga! Gunga!" as if in fear.
Thumb turned and looked at Nod. "We shall have to carry him, Ummanodda,"he said. "If he eats any more of their mouldy nuts and cheese ourbrother will die in these wild mountains. They must be sad stomachs thatthrive on meat gone green with age. And now the physic is gone, andwhere shall we find more in these great hills of ice? We must carryhim--we must carry him, Nodnodda."
Then Ghibba, who was standing near, understanding a little of what Thumbsaid, though he had spoken low in Mulgar-royal, called four of histwenty. And together they made a kind of sling or hammock or pallet outof their strands of Cullum, and cushioned it with hair and moss. Foronce every year these Mulgars shave all the hair off their bodies, andlie in chamber until it is grown again. By this means even the very oldkeep sleek and clean. With this hair they make a kind of tippet, alsocushions and bedding of all sorts. It is a curious custom, but each,growing up, follows his father, and so does not perceive its oddness.Into this litter, then, they laid Thimble, and lifted him on to theirshoulders by ropes at the corners, plaited thick, so as not to chafe thebearers. Then, the others laden with great faggots of wood and torches,bags of nuts and cheese, and skin bottles of milk, they passed throughan arch in the wall of the cavern, and the travellers set out once more.All the Men of the Mountains came out with their little ones in thestarlight and torch-flare to see them go. Even the old chief squinniedsulkily out of his hut, and spat on the ground when they were gone.
The Mulgar-path on the farther side of this arch was so wide that hereand there trees hung over it with frost-tasselled branch
es. And a raresquabbling the little Mountain-owls made out of their holes in the rockto see the travellers' torches passing by. First walked six of the Menof the Mountains, two by two. Then came Thimble, tossing and gibberingon his litter. Close behind the litter followed Ghibba, walking betweenThumb and Nod. And last, talking all together in their thin grasshoppervoices, the other ten Mountain-mulgars with more bags, more faggots, andmore burning torches. It was, as I have said, clear and starry weather.Far below them the valleys lay, their blackness fleeced with mist; highabove them glittered the quiet ravines of ice and snow. So cold had itfallen again, Nod huddled himself close in his sheep's-jacket, buzzingquiet songs while he waddled along with his stick. So all night theywalked without resting, except to change the litter-bearers.
When dawn began to stir, they came to where the Mulgar-path widenedawhile. Here many rock-conies dwelt that have, as it were, wings of skinwith which they leap as if they flew. And here the travellers dousedtheir torches, set Thimble down, and made breakfast. While they all sateating together, on a narrow pass beneath them wound by another of thelong-haired companies of the Men of the Mountains. From upper path tolower was about fifteen Mulgars deep, for that is how they measure theirheights. All these Mulgars were laden with a kind of fresh green seaweedheaped up on their shallow head-baskets, and were come three days'journey from the sea from fetching it. This seaweed they eat in theirsoup, or raw, as a relish or salad. Perhaps they pit it against theircheese. Whether or no, its salt and refreshing savour rose up into theair as they walked. And Nod sniffed it gladly for simple friendship andmemory of his master Battle.
Breakfast done, the snow-bobbins hopped down to pick up the crumbs.These little tufty birds, of the size of a plump bull-finch, but purewhite, with coral eyes, hop among the Mountain-mulgar troops wheresoeverthey go, having a great fancy for their sour cheese-crumbs.
The Men of the Mountains then hung up on their rods or staves a kind ofthick sheet or shadow-blanket, as they call it, woven of goats' wool andOllaconda-fibre, under which they all hid themselves from the glare ofthe over-riding sun. Nod, too, and Thumb sat down in close shade besideThimble's litter, and slept fitfully, tired out with their night-march,but anxious in the extreme for their brother.
Towards about three, as we should say, or when the sun was three partsacross his bridge, having wound up their shadow-blankets and made allshipshape, the little company of grey and brown Mulgars set out oncemore. Thimble, who had lain drowsy and panting, but quiet, during theday, now began to toss and rave as if in fear. His cries rang piercingand sorrowful against these stone walls, and even the hairyMountain-men, who carried him in such patience slung between them, grewat last weary of his clamour, and shook his litter when he cried out, asif, indeed, that might quiet him.
Nod stumped on for a long time in silence, listening to his brother'sraving. "O Thumb, what should we do," he broke out at last--"what shouldwe do, you and me, if Thimble died?"
Thumb grunted. "Thimble will not die, little brother."
"But how can you know, Thumb? Or do you say it only to comfort me?"
"I never could tell how I know, Ummanodda; but know I do, and there's anend."
"I suppose we shall get to Tishnar's Valleys--in time?" said Nod, halfto himself.
"The Nizza-neela is downcast with long travel," said Ghibba.
"Ay," muttered Thumb, "and being a Mulla-mulgar, he does not show it."
Nod turned his head away, blinked softly, shrugged up his jacket, butmade no answer. And Thumb, in his kindness, and perhaps to ease his ownspirits, too, broke out in his great seesaw voice into the Mulgarjourney-song. High above the squabbling of the little Mountain-owls,high above the remote thunder of the surging waters in the ravine, intothe clear air they raised their hoarse voices together:
"In Munza a Mulgar once lived alone, And his name it was Dubbuldideery, O; With none to love him, and loved by none, His hard old heart it grew weary, O, Weary, O weary, O weary.
"So he up with his cudgel, he on with his bag Of Manaka, Ukkas, and Keeri, O; To seek for the waters of 'Old-Made-Young,' Went marching old Dubbuldideery, O Dubbuldi-dubbuldi-deery.
"The sun rose up, and the sun sank down; The moon she shone clear and cheery, O, And the myriads of Munza they mocked and mopped And mobbed old Dubbuldideery, O, Moh Mulgar Dubbuldideery.
"He cared not a hair of his head did he, Not a hint of the hubbub did hear he, O, For the roar of the waters of 'Old-Made-Young' Kept calling of Dubbuldideery, O, Call--calling of Dubbuldideery.
"He came to the country of 'Catch Me and Eat Me'-- Not a fleck of a flicker did fear he, O, For he knew in his heart they could never make mince-meat Of tough old Dubbuldideery, O, Rough, tough, gruff Dubbuldideery.
"He waded the Ooze of Queen Better-Give-Up, Dim, dank, dark, dismal, and dreary, O, And, crunch! went a leg down a Cockadrill's throat, 'What's _one_?' said Dubbuldideery, O, Undauntable Dubbuldideery.
"He cut him an Ukka crutch, hobbled along, Till Tishnar's sweet river came near he, O-- The wonderful waters of 'Old-Made-Young,' A-shining for Dubbuldideery, O, Wan, wizened old Dubbuldideery.
"He drank, and he drank--and he drank--and he--drank: No more was he old and weary, O, But weak as a babby he fell in the river, And drownded was Dubbuldideery, O, Drown-ded was Dubbuldideery!"
WITH STICKS AND STAVES AND FLARING TORCHES THEY TURNED ON THE FIERCE BIRDS THAT CAME SWEEPING AND SWIRLING OUT OF THE DARK.]
It was a long song, and it lasted a long time, and so many were theverses, that at last even the Men of the Mountains caught up the crazyMulgar drone and wheezily joined in, too. A very dismal music it was--sodismal, indeed, that many of the eagles who make their nests or eyriesin the crevices and ledges of the topmost crags of Arakkaboa flewscreaming into the air, sweeping on their motionless wings between thestars over the echoing precipices.
The travellers had set to the last verse of the Journey-Song morelustily than ever, when of a sudden one of these eagles, crested, andbronze in the torchlight, swooped so close in its anger of the voicesthat it swept off Thumb's wool hat. In his haste he heedlessly struck atthe shining bird with his staff or cudgel. Its scream rose sudden andpiercing as it soared, dizzily wheeling in its anger, at evens with theglassy peak of Kush. Too late the Men of the Mountains cried out onThumb to beware. In an instant the night was astir, the air forked withwings. From every peak the eagles swooped upon the Mulgars. And soon thetravellers were fighting wildly to beat them off. They hastily laid poorThimble down in his sling and covered up his eyes from the tumult with ashadow-blanket. And with sticks and staves and flaring torches theyturned on the fierce birds that came sweeping and swirling out of thedark upon them on bristling feathers, with ravening beaks and talons.But against Thumb the eagles fought most angrily for his insult to theirPrince, hovering with piercing battle-cry, their huge wings beating adreadful wind upon his cowering head. Nod, while he himself wasbuffeting, ducking and dodging, could hear Thumb breathing and coughingand raining blows with his great cudgel. The moon was now slidingtowards the mouth of Solmi's Valley, and her beams streamed aslant onthe hosts of the birds. Wherever Nod looked, the air was aflock witheagles. His hand was torn and bleeding, a great piece of hissheep's-jacket had been plucked out, and still those moon-gilded wingsswooped into the torchlight, beaks snapped almost in his face, andtalons clutched at him.
Suddenly a scream rose shrill above all the din around him. For a momentthe birds hung hovering, and then Nod perceived one of the biggest ofthe eagles struggling in mid-air with something stretched and wrestlingupon its back. It was a Man of the Mountains floating there in space,while the maddened eagle rose and fell, and poised itself, and shook andbeat its wings, vainly striving to tear him off. And now many other ofthe eagles wheeled off from the Mulgars and swept in frenzy to and froover this struggling hor
se and rider, darting upon them, beating thedying Mulgar with their wings, screaming their war-song, until at last,gradually, lower and lower they all sank out of the moonlight into theshadow of the valley, and were lost to sight. The few birds thatremained were soon beaten off. Five lay dead in their beautiful featherson the pass. And the breathless and bleeding Mulgars gathered togetheron this narrow shelf of the precipice to bind up their wounds and restand eat. But three of them were nowhere to be found. They made noanswer, though their friends called and called, again and again, intheir shrill reedy voices. For one in fighting had stumbled and toppledover, torch in hand, from the path, one had been slit up by an eagle'sclaw, and one had been carried off by the eagles.